"Look there, my son," said she--"there you will no longer be an emperor,

but you will have the right to be a free and happy man. No crown awaits

you there, but freedom, worth more than all the crowns in the world."

Little Ivan exultingly stretched forth his tiny arms, as if he would

draw down to his childish heart this future and this freedom so highly

lauded by his mother.

And, like the child, the parents looked smilingly out upon the broad

expanse that stretched away before them.

Look only forward, constantly forward, where the skies are clear, and

dream of happiness! Look forward--no, turn not backward your glance, for

the horizon darkens in your rear; misfortune is closely following upon

your track! You see it not, you only look forward and still you smile.

It draws nearer and nearer, this black cloud of evil. It is the ravens,

the booty-scenting ravens who are following you!

Look forward, dream yourselves happy, and smile yet. What would it help

you to look back! You cannot escape the calamity.

Nearer and nearer, with a wild cry, rush these ravens of misfortune; the

air already bears detached sounds to Anna's ears.

She trembles. It is as if her boding soul scented the approaching evil.

Pressing her child closer to her bosom, she gives her husband her hand.

The horses are attached to the sledge, and the soldiers leave the

public house. All is ready for the train to go on over the boundary. The

postilions draw the rein! Now a wild cry of "Halt! halt!"

The soldiers bear up, the postilions halt!

"Forward! forward!" shrieks Prince Ulrich, in mortal anguish.

"Halt! in the name of the empress!" cried an officer who came rushing

past upon a foaming steed, and he handed to the commander of the escort

an open writing, furnished with the imperial seal.

The commander turned to the postilions.

"To the right about, toward Riga!" ordered he, and then, turning to the

trembling princely pair, he said: "In the name of the empress, you are

my prisoners! I am directed to conduct you to the citadel of Riga!"

With a loud groan, Anna sinks into the arms of her husband. He consoles

her with the most soothing and affectionate words; he has thought,

sorrow, only for her--he feels not for himself, but only for her.

For a moment Anna was overpowered by this unexpected horror; then she

calmly rose erect, and pressed her son more closely to her bosom.

"We are all lost," whispered she, "prisoners forever! Poor child--poor,

unhappy husband!"

"Despair not," said Prince Ulrich, "all may yet turn out well! Who knows

how soon aid may reach us!"

Anna lightly shook her head, and thinking of the last words of her

friend, she murmured low: "Punishment passes, but love remains!"




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